


Curse the moon

by starryhoch (slytherminie)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood and Injury, Childhood Friends, Curse Breaking, Dreams and Nightmares, Fae & Fairies, Friends to Lovers, Guns, Knives, M/M, Minor Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Minor Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Jeon Wonwoo, Monster Hunters, Monsters, Near Death Experiences, Nonbinary Character, Witch Curses, Witches, guess how this little curse gets broken wink wink, honestly this whole story is an ode to soonyoung and i'm not even ashamed, there's a lot of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27216916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherminie/pseuds/starryhoch
Summary: Darkness is starting to envelope his senses, and he doesn’t know if it’s due to the night getting deeper or to the pain. Stopping in his tracks, he manages to raise his head towards the sky; the branches over his head look like distorted faces, leering at him, reminding him that he’s doomed. There’s a silver smile there, a slice of moon shining a bit of reflected light down on Earth. The snow seems even whiter.
Relationships: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 18
Kudos: 37
Collections: Seoksoon Fireball Fest 2020





	Curse the moon

**Author's Note:**

> There are heavy mentions of blood and injuries and quite a bit of nightmares in this piece, please be mindful! I tagged everything, but let me know if you think there are tags to be added. 
> 
> Ok, here I am. Writing this has been an experience. It got much longer than I anticipated and I'm not sure it's exactly what the prompter was waiting for, but I hope it satisfies them nonetheless. I poured all of me in this!!! Here a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9eqJAKDL2zQ) to set the mood.
> 
> Please check out the rest of the works in this fest! I'm sure they'll be amazing.  
> Thanks to the mod for the support and for creating such a beautiful fest!!

~

There’s the sound of branches snapping under his heavy boots. The loud thump-thump of his heartbeat in his ears. The deep breaths coming out of his mouth in the form of condensation clouds. The blood - oh fuck, the blood - gushing out from his side, staining his clothes red, dripping on the white snow below his feet, leaving a very easy trail to follow. 

One hand plastered to his wound, trying to avoid leaving too much of his fluids on the ground, the other tight in a fist around his hunting knife, Seokmin walks slowly through the woods. The pain - blood, so much blood, fuck, too much blood - makes it hard for him to move, to breathe, to come up with a plan. His body is screaming at him to hide, find a place to curl up, a dark one where he can rest, where he can  _ heal _ . All the while the alarms inside his head are going off, loud blaring sounds that are telling him to keep moving, to  _ run run run _ . 

A distant noise makes him stop in his tracks, nose upturned towards the branches over his head. The rustling comes from there, something moving between the foliage. There’s a gun in his hand before he can even think of getting it out of its holster, his instincts taking over, his blood-covered fingers clutching at the weapon and aiming it towards the sky. A blast, and then a pitiful squeak when a bird flies away from its hiding spot between the leaves, the bullet hitting the bark of a tree. Seokmin lets out a curse through his teeth. 

In the middle of the forest everything is shrouded in darkness, the light of the moon casting shades of grey on everything it touches. The blood - it’s still too much, still dripping out too fast - looks almost black against the white blanket of snow. 

It’s jarring, the sensation of his life forces leaving him slowly, with each step he takes through the woods he once knew like the back of his hand. Now everything looks foreign, even more so in the white, cold light shinging from above, filtering through the dead tree branches. He shouldn’t be thinking about dying, shouldn’t even say the word, - the blood is warm, and there’s so much of it, sticky on his fingers - shouldn’t be something he worries about. Until he has enough strength to move, he shouldn’t stop. 

Part of the forest still looks familiar; there’s a rock shaped like a mushroom covered in snow that he swears he’s seen before, right next to a thin torrent, its surface iced over because of the cold. The snow makes everything harder to figure out. Seokmin hasn’t seen snow since he left this place, so many years before. He almost forgot the crunchy sound of it under his shoes, forgot the smell that it left in the air. Forgot how easy it is to leave tracks over it - especially when he’s bleeding out of his side, especially when whatever he’s running from can probably smell his blood in the air and on the ground. 

It was all his fault: the blood, - it isn’t stopping, and his hands are starting to shake - the fact that he’s lost in the middle of the woods. Caution thrown to the wind, he acted like a careless child, running between the trees like he used to do. Maybe the memories were too much, maybe  _ something _ got into him.

His body is begging him to stop, to lie down on the ground and rest, but he knows that if he gives in he’s not going to make it; he will become food for whatever beast he’s searching for. If the monster wants to eat him, it better come out and fight him. Maybe not right now, when he’s literally bleeding to death. Maybe later, when he’s found a way to get better - stopping the blood should be his first priority, as soon as he finds a safe place. 

Walking through the thick layer of snow is difficult, makes his steps slow, makes lifting his feet from the ground harder than it should be. Seokmin feels the exhaustion pulling at him, his limbs weighing far more than they should - the blood keeps on dripping, keeps on flowing out of him in small drops that stain the path he’s walking on. His vision starts to be fuzzy, the edges of it blurring; there’s cotton inside his ears, the sound of his own breathing becoming the only thing he can properly hear. 

How ironic would it be, for his sister to lose both her mother and her brother in the span of a few days? All because Seokmin wasn’t cautious enough, all because he overestimated himself, thinking that this hunt would be easy, that he would be enough, that going into the woods alone was a good idea. Look at him now - look at the blood, look at his pale face, at the way he can feel the knife slipping from between his fingers. 

Darkness is starting to envelope his senses, and he doesn’t know if it’s due to the night getting deeper or to the pain. Stopping in his tracks, he manages to raise his head towards the sky; the branches over his head look like distorted faces, leering at him, reminding him that he’s doomed. There’s a silver smile there, a slice of moon shining a bit of reflected light down on Earth. The snow seems even whiter. Now that he’s stopped moving he’s starting to feel the cold seeping into his bones, the goosebumps rising to the back of his neck, the only bit of skin he has exposed to the freezing air. 

The alarm bells in his head are fading out as he falls to his knees, sinking down in the deep blanket of snow covering the ground. His skin doesn’t even register the cold biting it, seeping through the generous layers of clothing he’s wearing. His hands on the ground, he heaves a few breaths, his vision swimming and going out of focus. The shadows are creeping in around him, but he can’t find the knife between his fingers anymore. Before he’s realized, he’s fallen face first on the ground, a deep pool of red gathering next to him - there’s still so much blood, but there’s nothing else he can do about it. His eyes fall shut. 

His last thought is for his sister, and for his best friend that he’s lost a long time ago: that they may be happy even without him. 

~

The trees look taller than he remembers them being, towering over him with their branches. It has just stopped raining, Seokmin can tell by the drops of water stuck to the green leaves and by the puddles of water on the ground. He looks around, takes in the space he’s standing in. 

He knows this clearing, but he also has no idea where he is. It’s a weird sensation; there’s something off, a feeling like deja-vu, like he has been here already but at the same time he’s never seen it before. The rocks look familiar, the grass below his feet is a shade he remembers seeing before, but he can’t pinpoint the moment in which he stood in the exact same place in the past, and he doesn’t know his way back to where he came from. He’s lost. 

Looking at his hands, he doesn’t find the knife he’s so sure he was holding. Instead, he discovers that his fingers look different. They’re shorter, thinner. There are no scars on his knuckles, no signs of the fighting he’s done over the past years, no calluses caused by the bow. 

A voice calls his name. 

His head snaps up from where he was looking at his own hands, his eyes moving to the source of noise. There’s no one there, the clearing empty, the trees staring back at him. Green envelopes his senses, completely filling his vision. The voice calls for him again, and Seokmin looks around, trying to find the person saying his name. Still, no one is in sight. 

He wonders if he’s imagining it, if it’s all in his head; his name gets called for the third time, and Seokmin recognizes the voice this time. The sound of it is unmistakable, Seokmin could pick it apart between a thousand different ones. The tone of it, the familiar way that tongue rolls around his name. 

“Seokmin!” The voice says again, and it feels so close, so real, so urgent. Like it has something important to tell him. “Seokmin, open your eyes!” It says, but Seokmin already has his eyes opened, and he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. He turns around, back and forth, but he can’t spot the person calling his name. 

“Soonyoung!” He shouts back, but there’s no reply. The forest is silent, the green of it hurting his eyes, making his head spin. Before he can do anything else, he’s fallen to his knees, his heart in his throat. It’s hard to breathe when the forest is closing in on him, the branches looking like claws ready to tear him apart. 

“Seokmin!” The voice calls again, closer this time, a whisper next to him. It could have been the wind between the trees, but Seokmin can’t help looking up, his eyes finally finding the person he was looking for. There’s a smile on his face.

Soonyoung has round cheeks, his hair black, cut short above his ears. There’s a blush on his face, like he ran all the way there, or like he’s been under the sun for too long. His teeth shine in the green light, his plump lips stretching over them. He’s dressed in shades of green as well, like he oftens is, and it makes his head look like it’s floating in the middle of the leaves surrounding them. He looks exactly like Seokmin remembers him, from the tip of his shoes to the top of his head. The smile is still in place as he crouches down to reach for Seokmin’s face. 

There are soft hands around his jaw, cupping his cheeks with a gentle touch, and Seokmin feels the need to start crying. He missed Soonyoung so much. Trying to vocalize that, he opens his mouth to speak, but a burst of pain in his side makes a whine erupt from him instead of the words he wanted to say. Soonyoung shushes him, caresses his face with careful fingers.

“It’s ok Seokmin, you’re going to be ok.”

The scorching hot pain in his abdomen drags another guttural growl out of his lips. Soonyoung is still smiling, but from up close Seokmin can read the worry in his eyes. Trying to take deep breaths makes his chest hurt even more, so he focuses on Soonyoung instead, on the warmth of his hands around him, on the soft words he’s speaking to keep him awake. 

“Am I dying?” Seokmin asks him, a question he’s not sure he wants an answer to. Soonyoung shakes his head vigorously, his hands angling Seokmin’s head with force so their eyes can meet. There’s black in Soonyoung’s gaze, his pupils dilated, taking over the warm brown of his irises almost completely. 

“No,” Soonyoung says, sounding sure, “You’re not dying. You can’t die on me. Not now.” 

His voice wobbles towards the end of the sentence, and Seokmin wonders if this is a lie Soonyoung is telling him just to make him feel better. If he’s actually going to die. “You’re not dying, do you hear me?” Soonyoung repeats, and the hold he has on Seokmin’s face grows stronger, verging on painful. Seokmin whines, his hands covering Soonyoung’s smaller ones, but Soonyoung doesn’t let go. 

His eyes are so black, so dark, so alluring. Looking into them feels like falling inside a well, towards the unknown. The pain in his side is still making him dizzy, and looking at the constellations inside Soonyoung’s eyes isn’t helping him either. All he can focus on is the black of his gaze, and all he sees is black as his own eyelids fall shut. 

~

Black. 

Hell is black, Seokmin realizes. He can’t see anything, pitch black even if he’s sure he has opened his eyes, total darkness around him. Where he’s supposed to see shapes, where he thinks he should spot movement, there’s nothing but an infinite stretch of black. Death seems boring, in its charcoal color. 

Black surrounds him, in all directions. His limbs feel detached from his own body, only a light buzzing in his veins making him aware of their presence. Wondering if there’s anything else attached to his body, he tries to move around, tries to wiggle his fingers. There’s no way to know if he’s moving them or not, the  _ black black black _ still all around him. 

Slowly, he shifts in his place, rolling on himself slightly. His breath gets knocked out of his chest by the  _ pain _ , sudden and hot in his abdomen, so strong it tears a growl out of his throat. 

Fuck, he’s still alive. 

“Stop moving,” a voice tells him, something cold making contact with his stomach, making him hiss. “Yeah, like that. Stay still. You’re going to feel better soon.”

Seokmin doesn’t know when  _ soon  _ is, but it better come fast, because he feels like a fire is consuming him from the inside out, burning everything that is left of his body. He isn’t dead, but he might as well be, with the way he’s bled out on the ground outside, in the forest. The blood is vivid in his memory - so much of it, so red against the white of snow. He wonders how exactly he managed to survive, and what has happened while he was knocked out cold. 

It’s with a start that he comes back to consciousness once again, realizing he must have fallen asleep - or passed out, he’s not sure - while the pain still had its clutches around his chest. Right now it seems subsided, but he’s afraid to move in case another wave of that torment will appear. Slowly, he opens his eyes, careful as not to move anything else. He’s staring at a wooden ceiling, unfamiliar. A place he’s never seen before. 

As his senses come back into focus, he realizes he can hear the sound of a fire burning somewhere near, and he can smell burnt wood. A fireplace, probably. There’s also something else in the air, which makes Seokmin’s insides churn. It’s the smell of food, his mind provides, and he suddenly feels the emptiness of his stomach as it rumbles in hunger. 

He moves his head slightly, from side to side, but there’s not much to see: he’s in a bed, of that he’s sure, in a cabin most likely, as the room he’s in seems to have wooden walls in addition to the wooden ceiling. From where he’s lying he can’t see past the door, which is open to show another room, probably a kitchen or a living room, from where the sounds are coming. 

It’s not just the crackle of fire that makes it to his ears now; there’s also someone humming a song Seokmin is vaguely familiar with, a song he’s sure he’s heard at least once before in his life. The voice feels like one he’s heard before, too. 

Before he can sit up more, the person who the voice belongs to is standing by his side, looking displeased with finding him awake and moving around.

“Don’t,” the man says, putting a hand against his shoulder and pushing him to lie back down on the bed, “You’re gonna rip the wound open  _ again _ .” There’s a stern look on his face as he makes sure Seokmin isn’t moving before removing the pressure on him. “There, stay still. I don’t want to patch you up for the third time.”

Seokmin stares as the stranger checks his side with meticulous hands, lifting the shirt he’s wearing - a white one, that he’s sure the guy must have put on him after stripping him down to dress his wound - and the bandages to take a look at his work. 

“For now it’s fine,” he states, covering Seokmin with gentle fingers. He smiles then, and the facade of cool, stern healer melts away when his nose scrunches up. Seokmin realizes how handsome the man is, and how his eyes don’t look like human ones at all, the pupils slanted like the ones of a snake, or a cat, yellow in shade. A shapeshifter, maybe, or a witch. 

“I’m Wonwoo,” his saviour affirms, the smile still lingering on his lips and softening his features. Seokmin feels compelled to reply.

“Seokmin,” he says, or he tries to, but his voice gets stuck at the back of his sore throat. He coughs once, the pain in his side reappearing with the motion, knocking the breath out of him. “Here, drink this,” Wonwoo gives him a cup of something warm, and Seokmin drinks it without a second thought. He figures that if this person wanted him dead, he would already be. 

The beverage smells of peppermint and makes his throat itch a bit, but it warms him up and when he tries to speak again his words finally make their way past his lips. 

“My name is Seokmin.” 

“Nice to meet you, Seokmin. Even if I wish we’d never met under such circumstances.” 

“Likewise.”

Wonwoo’s laugh is short but melodic, and it makes Seokmin smile as well. Drinking whatever the other man gave him makes him feel like a new person, with his head finally clear from the fog it was enveloped in because of the ache between his ribs. 

“You have a very deep wound in your side, but you’re lucky none of your internal organs were damaged,” Wonwoo drags a chair to the side of the bed and sits on it, crossing his left ankle over his right knee. Seokmin notices he’s wearing dark robes, black pants and a black tunic over it. A crimson gem glints on his chest, where it’s surrounded by gold in a brooch. A witch, Seokmin decides. In his unluckiness, he seemed to have gotten some luck anyway. 

“You also lost lots of blood.” 

That he remembers - the red of it, the way it stained the white snow, the way it felt sticky on his skin, the way it kept on dripping. A shudder shakes his body, involuntary. 

“Keeping you alive was hard work.”

Wonwoo has produced a pair of round glasses from somewhere while Seokmin was distracted, and he’s toying with them, his long fingers turning them around as he speaks. 

“Thank you for that,” Seokmin is very grateful, and he hopes Wonwoo can hear it in his voice. The witch makes a dismissive gesture with the glasses still in his hand, as to say it was no big deal. “I made a promise,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate further than that. Seokmin supposes it’s the promise of using magic for good that witches do when they’re initiated, so he doesn’t ask for an explanation. He knows how witchcraft works, he knows Wonwoo is mostly human, just with a bit of fae blood in his veins. 

“Still. I’m glad it was you that found me.”

At that Seokmin notices a shift in Wonwoo, his pupils dilating as he speaks his next words, voice guarded, expression blank.

“I’m glad too,” Wonwoo replies, his smile growing dimmer, “It was a stroke of luck.” 

Seokmin can tell when someone is lying, recognizes all the little signs. The training he’s gone through teached him to do so. He just wonders what exactly Wonwoo is lying about, if it’s a way to protect Seokmin from something or to protect himself. 

“I bet you’re hungry,” Wonwoo says after a brief pause, and Seokmin’s stomach growls in affirmance, making both of them chuckle. The weird air dissipates, just like it appeared just a moment before, as Wonwoo makes his way back and forth from the adjacent room to bring him soup, bread and fruits, instructing him to eat slowly if he doesn’t want to hurt more. Seokmin, always good at following orders, does as the witch says. 

“What were you doing in the woods?” Wonwoo asks him at some point, while Seokmin has his cheeks full of apple pulp and is chewing on it slowly. It takes him a while to gulp it down, and by then he’s decided what to say and what to omit, because he knows he’s a shitty liar and Wonwoo apparently saved his life, but Seokmin knows he can’t trust no one beside his own self. He’s not about to reveal his own identity to the witch without making sure he can actually do so without repercussions. Having a near-death experience once was enough. 

“I come from the village near the river,” Seokmin says easily, because that’s not a lie, that’s his hometown. “And I’ve been away for the past eight years. I came back because my mom died.”

Wonwoo’s face scrunches up, the glasses he’s now wearing wobbling on the bridge of his nose. “My condolences,” he replies, sounding sincere. Seokmin tries to smile, taking another small bite from his apple. “It’s okay, it’s been a long time coming. She’s been ill all these years.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt less.” Wonwoo’s face is serious, his fingers laced together as his elbows rest on his knees. There’s an intense aura around him, like he was born to stand out in a crowd, to command with his presence. Maybe it’s his face, Seokmin reasons with himself, the perfect arches of his brows, the way his lips are stretched in a thin line whenever he’s not smiling. “It doesn’t,” Seokmin agrees in the end, giving the core of the fruit to Wonwoo so he can dispose of it. “It hurts, but at least I was expecting it. And I was lucky my sister managed to get a hold of me before our mother passed, so I got to say goodbye.”

“I’m glad,” Wonwoo takes the rest of his meal and brings it to the other room. Seokmin can’t help but stretch his neck to see what’s in there, but as he does so a sharp stab in his side makes him curl on himself, a whine caught at the back of his throat. When he comes back, Wonwoo has another cup of something warm in his hands. There’s steam wafting up from it, and Seokmin welcomes it in his hands when the witch passes it to him. 

“This is something to aid your rest.”

“Is it magical?” Seokmin can’t help but ask. Wonwoo doesn’t seem surprised to know that Seokmin is aware of his powers, just grins softly at him. “As magical as peppermint and chamomile tea could be,” he replies, and Seokmin can’t help smiling himself. “Thank you,” he repeats once again, as Wonwoo checks his wound for the nth time before deeming it fine to leave him alone to sleep.

As Seokmin stares at the ceiling, counting the black spots on the wood, he wonders what would have been of him if Wonwoo hadn’t found him. Wonders why the beast didn’t attack him, as his blood was probably easy to follow - he’s sure he left an easy trail, red spots against white snow. He can’t stop thinking about that, about the crimson stains, about the smell of iron in the air. 

He falls asleep after a while, when exhaustion pulls at him and the ache in his abdomen makes it impossible to shift on his side. Lying there, eyes closed, he thinks of his mom and her kind eyes, her gentle words, her rough hands. He’s pretty sure he feels a caress on his face, but he’s already in the world of dreams. 

~

Seokmin has always been a coward. That’s why when his friends tell him he should go into the woods, pick a specific flower and come back to them, he shakes his head no. 

Seungkwan laughs at him, taunting. “Your sister is braver than you,” he says, as if that would be an insult to Seokmin, who honestly doesn’t care in the least. “She is,” he affirms instead, making Hansol snort at the way Seungkwan deflates. “C’mon dude,” Hansol has a small smile on his face, looks like he’s about to bolt into the woods himself if Seokmin won’t do it, “It’s easy! You go in there, you come back. You don’t even need to go in deep!” 

There’s a pout on Seokmin’s lips. He doesn’t understand why his friends think that this is a suitable dare for him. “I don’t want to,” he petulantly repeats, making Seungkwan shake his fists in the air in annoyance. “You said dare!” The younger boy looks like he’s going to vibrate out of his own skin. “You picked dare! You can’t take it back!” 

Huffing, Seokmin crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t like the forest, never had. There’s something off with it, a feeling that settles in his bones every time he’s in its near vicinity. It’s like someone is always looking at him, and he doesn’t like that, doesn’t like the idea of  _ something  _ observing him from where he can’t see it.

“Let’s do this. We wait for you at the beginning of the path, as close to the trees as possible, and if anything happens you can shout and we will come for you.” Hansol smiles at him, reassuring, and Seokmin knows he won’t be able to escape his punishment. There’s a frown on his face when they walk together to the outskirts of the woods, standing by a fallen tree bark where Seungkwan and Hansol sit down to wait for him.

“Promise you will come for me if anything happens,” Seokmin knows he sounds pathetic, but he can’t help pleading. The leaves are green on the branches, shining in the sunlight, and Seokmin rationally knows there’s nothing to be afraid of, but he can’t make his hands stop shaking. “Of course we will,” Hansol replies, making sure to sound sincere. Seungkwan scoffs, but says: “Whatever.” It’s not as comforting, but Seokmin knows he won’t get anything else from him. 

The path is easy to follow, countless people having walked on it before him, making it impossible to get lost if he sticks to it, yet Seokmin is terrorized. The flower he’s looking for is orange, should be around the size of his fist, impossible to miss in the midst of greens and browns of the forest. With each step he takes he feels his legs wobbling in fear.

He’s not far from the village, he knows that, yet the more he walks the less he feels like this place belongs to humans. The legends seem so real when all around him there are only plants and the occasional bird flying over his head, colorful butterflies dancing around him as he walks towards the center of the woods. The feeling of being observed prickles his skin, goosebumps rising over it when he looks around to find no one, exactly as he expected. Sunlight filters through the branches and bathes everything in a muted light, the green around him so intense that it’s starting to hurt his eyes. 

The flower he’s looking for is called  _ Tagetes _ , and it’s very pretty. Seokmin knows this is just an excuse so Seungkwan can give something as a gift to Hansol, and he wishes the two of them would stop circling around each other. There’s a crunch, like a branch snapping; Seokmin turns around with his fists raised. 

“Who’s there?!” He asks the empty woods, but as expected he doesn’t get a reply. A squirrel appears out of nowhere, making him jump up in surprise, his hands clutching at his heart as his heartbeat goes frantic. “Why did I choose dare?” He questions himself out loud, trying to calm down by looking around in search of the flower, his eyes only encountering leaves and trees. Another snap behind his back, but this time Seokmin refuses to turn around. “I’m not letting you fool me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you,” a voice replies. Seokmin’s screech is so loud a flock of birds perched on a branch flies away in a whirlwind of wings. There’s a boy standing in the middle of the path behind Seokmin’s back, a boy with black hair and a smile on his face. Seokmin’s fists are raised once again, this time in the direction of said boy, who doesn’t seem intimidated by his fighting stance.

“It wasn’t my intention to startle you,” the stranger says, cocking his head to the side. Seokmin takes in his appearance, and then he recognizes him. 

“You’re the son of the healer,” Seokmin states, watching as the smile on the boy’s face grows wider, taking up his whole face and making his eyes disappear. He’s cute, Seokmin decides. 

“That’s me! My name is Soonyoung.”

“I’m Seokmin.”

“Sorry if I scared you, Seokmin.” There’s an apologetic little frown on Soonyoung’s face, one that makes his face look dimmer, thinner. Seokmin likes it better when Soonyoung is smiling his bright smile. “It’s ok,” he says, even though he’s sure his friends heard him scream, “I get scared easily.” 

A giggle from Soonyoung, and Seokmin feels suddenly lighter, like the fear in his guts is just a far away memory, like he was never afraid to begin with. Soonyoung takes a step closer, and Seokmin realizes he has an orange flower in his right hand, the one he offers to Seokmin. 

“I overheard your friends talking about sending you on a quest,” Soonyoung says as Seokmin takes the  _ Tagetes _ between his fingers, marveling at his bright color and the softness of its petals. “I hope you won’t mind the help.”

“Not at all!” Seokmin is grinning from ear to ear, he’s aware of that, but he can’t stop himself: he’s so glad Soonyoung took pity on him. On his own he would still be searching, still scared of venturing too far into the woods. The flower has a sweet smell when Seokmin puts his nose close to it, taking a whiff. It reminds him of the sweet pastries his mom bakes on Sunday mornings, whenever he and his sister begs for them. 

“The woods aren’t dangerous,” Soonyoung tells him, gesturing to the trees around them, "There's nothing to be scared of here."

Seokmin isn't sure he can believe Soonyoung's words, but he nods his head in agreement anyways, trying to appease the older boy. "It's just that I'm afraid of losing my way," he lies instead of explaining the weird feeling of being under prying eyes every time he puts foot in the forest. Soonyoung's grin grows bigger as he takes a step closer to Seokmin, putting his palm over his shoulder to reassure him.

"If you ever need help with finding your way around here, you can always ask me." 

"That's really nice of you."

"It's no problem at all. I know these woods like the back of my hand because my mom always sends me to find herbs and mushrooms for her." There's a brief pause there, one during which Soonyoung's eyes move from Seokmin's face to the flower still held tightly in his fist. "Do you know what meaning that flower has?"

"Flowers have meanings?" Seokmin inquires, curious. He's never heard that before. Soonyoung's tongue peeks out from his lips as he bites on it, probably trying to stop a laugh at Seokmin's incompetence.

"They do. I know some of them." 

"What's its meaning?" Seokmin asks, excited at the prospect of learning something new, bouncing on the spot. His own eyes move from Soonyoung's concentrated face to the flower between his fingers.

"It's also called herb of the sun," Soonyoung explains, reaching towards the vibrant orange plant to gently caress his forefinger along one of the petals, "It represents passion and creativity."

"That's so cool!"

"It's often used as a love charm."

When Seokmin looks up from his hands, he finds out Soonyoung is staring at him, his charming smile still curling his lips, much closer than he was seconds before. From this distance his eyes sparkle, Seokmin notices. He's stuck in place, unable to say anything as Soonyoung just stands there, surrounded by vibrant green like a halo around him that makes the brown of his eyes seem even warmer.

"There you are!" Hansol's voice breaks through Seokmin's reverie, his head snapping towards the source of noise as his friends appear on the path. Seungkwan has a scowl on his face.

"We heard you scream so we ran over immediately," Hansol says, sounding not like a person who ran to get there at all. It's ok, Seokmin thinks, he wasn't actually in any danger. It was just Soonyoung. Speaking of which, the older boy is now looking at his friends, an unreadable expression on his face.

"These are Hansol and Seungkwan," Seokmin says, as polite as ever, "And this is Soonyoung. He was the reason why I screamed, he startled me coming out of nowhere."

"I was just picking up some herbs," Soonyoung pouts, raising his shoulders to his ears, "You looked like you needed some help." 

"I did!"

"He did," Hansol agrees, giggling when Seungkwan rolls his eyes at them, "I'm glad he wasn't in actual danger. Thank you for taking care of him."

"I'm older than you," Seokmin reminds him, but it seems to fall on deaf ears as Hansol just waves his hand in the air to dismiss his words.

"No trouble at all," Soonyoung's smile resurfaces, his cheeks making his eyes disappear, "Do you guys know your way back?"

"We do," Seungkwan affirms, sounding as annoyed as ever. Seokmin wonders if this was just an elaborate excuse for the younger boys to be left alone. They could have just told him that they wanted to hang out without him.

"Well then, I'll go back to my job." Soonyoung does a mock salute. The green around him seems a little bit brighter, a little more vibrant. "See you guys around!" He says to them, but he's looking directly into Seokmin's eyes.

"See you."

Seokmin’s eyes can’t let go of him until he disappears completely into the heart of the woods.

  
  


~

When he comes to his senses it’s with a gasping breath, the remnants of a dream stuck to his skin in a sheen of warm sweat. There’s a tinkling laugh echoing inside his ears, one he hasn’t heard in a very long time, eight years to be more precise. He remembers it like he heard it just hours before. 

The room is still shrouded in darkness, probably because the sun hasn’t risen yet. There aren’t any noises coming from the other parts of the house, except the creaks of the wood walls and floor, the howls of wind penetrating through the windows’ frames. Seokmin figures Wonwoo is asleep in the other room, and he doesn’t feel like calling for him just because he woke up with a start and a headache. Instead of trying to get up, he waits for his eyes to adapt to the pitch black, and then starts counting the dark spots on the ceiling. Before he’s done, he’s fallen back asleep. 

When his eyes open again, Wonwoo is standing next to him, a focused expression on his face as he checks his wound. His heart swells with gratitude, a feeling he’s not experienced often in the past few years. 

“Good morning,” Wonwoo tells him, “Do you want to get up for a bit? You’ve stopped bleeding.”

“I think I need to use the restroom,” Seokmin assesses, making a grin bloom on Wonwoo’s face as he helps him in standing up. The pain in his side is subdued today, probably because despite Wonwoo’s words the stuff he made him drink the night before had a bit of magic in it. Seokmin doesn’t mind. As soon as he’s on his own feet, a thought makes him turn towards the door, his eyes searching for something he’s forgotten until a second before. He had weapons with him, weapons that seem to be nowhere in sight. Wonwoo seems to sense his discomfort, lets go of his arm to gesture towards the door leading to the rest of the cabin.

“Your stuff is all there,” he says, as if he just read Seokmin’s mind, “I didn’t touch anything.” 

There’s a glint in Wonwoo’s eyes, one that seems to promise more follow-up questions, but the witch stays silent, walks into the other room instead of drilling Seokmin. On one hand Seokmin is grateful, on the other the sudden disinterest makes him hyper-aware of the fact that Wonwoo must know who - or  _ what _ , at least - Seokmin is.

The restroom turns out to be nothing but the woods surrounding the cabin, and he has to take a piss in the biting cold, his feet in his own boots making imprints in the snow, his coat-cladded back to Wonwoo, who has the decency to look away. 

When they make it back inside, Seokmin takes in the cabin in its entirety. It’s not much, just the room he slept in, a living room with a kitchenette and a fireplace, and another door that probably leads to either another bedroom or a storage room. He doesn’t feel the need to investigate as Wonwoo gently guides him towards the rattled armchairs in front of the fireplace. As promised, his weapons are piled up in the corner of the room, his gun and hunting knives glinting under the changing light. His clothes are draped over a chair, probably because Wonwoo washed them to get rid of the blood and hung them there to dry. 

“Do you feel up for some breakfast?” Wonwoo asks, presenting him some bread and yet another cup of what seems to be his signature magic tea. Seokmin thanks him as he eats, watching with wary eyes as the witch moves through the room, doing what he supposes is his morning daily routine. There are so many questions Seokmin wants to ask, but he’s scared the interrogation will be retorted against him. He stares at the red flames dancing in front of him instead, enjoying the warmth they spread on his skin. From the window he can see the stark white of snow, glinting at him under the sunlight. It looks like a crisp day, perfect for a hunt if he was in any shape or condition. A sigh makes its way past his lips as he deflates in his seat, taking a sip of the tea in his mug.

Wonwoo moves around the room with the grace of a feline, his feet barely making any noise on the wooden floor. If he wasn’t trained to pick up even the thinnest sounds, Seokmin would totally forget the witch was in the room. 

When he finally sits down in the other armchair, his topaz irises are looking right at Seokmin. 

“You’re curious about who I am,” Seokmin states, but Wonwoo shakes his head no. 

“I put the pieces together on my own.”

“Then what do you want to know?”

“Your reasons.”

Oh, this is a new one. No one ever questioned Seokmin’s reasons before, they always asked him  _ how _ , never  _ why _ . He cocks his head to his side, scratching the back of his head in thought. 

“You need to be a bit more specific than that. Why was I out there on a snowy day, why was I out there alone?” Seokmin pauses, waiting for Wonwoo to elaborate. The witch doesn’t, studying him in silence. The moment stretches, the black of Wonwoo’s pupils dilating as his eyes grow thinner. 

“Why were you out there, at all?” Wonwoo questions in the end. Not what Seokmin was expecting. The surprise must be evident on his face, because Wonwoo chuckles at him, hiding his mouth behind the palm of his hand. 

“What is it? No one ever questioned your reasons as a monster hunter?”

It’s out in the open now, Wonwoo knowing exactly what he is. How exactly he put all the pieces together, Seokmin isn’t sure. 

“I could have been out there hunting down a deer,” Seokmin points out, making Wonwoo’s lips curl up in a smirk. The witch seems privy to a secret Seokmin doesn’t know, seems to be a step ahead of him. 

“But you weren’t,” he says, pointing to Seokmin’s side as proof. The _ thing  _ that attacked him was vicious, a creature of the shadows, something with sharp claws and teeth. Something that should have torn him to pieces when he fell down on the white snow outside, blood flowing out of his chest - it’s a miracle he survived, a miracle that Wonwoo found him. 

“I wasn’t.”

“Then, why?”

“I came back because my mother died,” Seokmin repeats, starting from the beginning, “And as soon as I put foot in town I heard news of a beast in the woods.” 

Wonwoo has his round glasses on the bridge of his nose, one of his hands under his chin as his elbow rests on the armchair. He’s listening intently, his yellow eyes focused on Seokmin as he speaks. The hunter risks a glance at him before continuing his story.

“Everywhere I went, all I heard were children scared of going into the forest, parents afraid that their sons and daughters would never come back if they ventured too far between the trees.”

The flames dance in front of them, unbothered by the horrors of the world. Seokmin envies them.

“Cattle slaughtered during the night, destroyed fences and buildings, food stocks that got stolen.” Seokmin takes a deep breath, his eyes trained on his own hands. They’re shaking slightly. This is where the story becomes personal, where he lost contact with reality. Where he ran into the woods without any preparation whatsoever, almost getting killed. “People mysteriously disappearing.”

At that, Wonwoo sits up straighter, turning more towards Seokmin. When he looks up from his shaking fists, Seokmin finds a worried expression on his face, eyebrows drawn together in concern. 

“People?” Wonwoo asks, sounding disbelieving. Seokmin nods. 

“The Council came up to me, said that the town’s healer has been missing for months now.” After he had spoken with the town’s elders, Hansol ran up to him, shaking as he hugged him, burying his face in Seokmin’s shoulder. He looked so worried as he clutched Seokmin’s wrists in his hands, eyes pleading.  _ Go find him _ , he said,  _ you’re the only one that can bring him back _ . 

“You said people,” Wonwoo points out, his gaze still focused on Seokmin, studying him as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. 

“What?”

“You said  _ people _ , multiple ones. Is the healer the only one that has gone missing?” There’s urgency in Wonwoo’s tone, as if Seokmin’s answer would make a difference. 

Seokmin gapes, at a loss for words. 

“Every life is important,” Seokmin bites out, refusing to admit that it’s just a person missing. “And it’s the town healer. Without him, they’re doomed.” 

Wonwoo looks amused now, a small smile curling his lips. “Some of them come to me for their problems,” he pauses, rolls his eyes, “The ones that believe in magic, at least.”

“I don’t see how that’s helping. A person disappeared,” Seokmin knows he sounds choked up, knows he sounds far too affected. Hansol’s pale face reappears in his memory when he closes his eyes. “Something dangerous is going around these woods.”

Wonwoo’s tongue pokes out of his lips as he bites down on it. “Several dangerous creatures are going around these woods,” the witch says, eyeing Seokmin’s weapons stacked in the furthest corner of the room, “You included.”

“Are you dangerous as well?” Seokmin can’t help but ask, studying Wonwoo’s reaction closely. The other doesn’t seem disturbed by his question, shrugging his shoulders lightly. His brooch shines crimson red, reflecting the light coming from the fire. 

“I could be, if I wanted to.” His hair falls in his eyes when he angles his head towards Seokmin, and he brushes it away with fast fingers. “But I made a promise.”

Silence stretches between them as they study each other, the tension so thick Seokmin swears he can feel it on his skin like a heavy blanket. He wonders if Wonwoo would purposefully hurt him, if he has healed enough to fight the witch on equal ground. Wonwoo is tall, even though he isn’t particularly built and surely not as well trained in combat as Seokmin is. Maybe he would have a chance. 

“I’m just saying,” Wonwoo breaks the silence, sitting cross-legged on the armchair and grinning at Seokmin, his eyes shining with an emotion Seokmin can’t name, “That you should consider all options. Even the ones that seem impossible.”

“What do you mean?”

“The new moon is coming by the end of this week. By then you’ll be completely healed.” Wonwoo gets up from his seat with those words, pats Seokmin’s head like he was a big puppy. “You’re free to go whenever you want, but I advise that you stay here until then. I promise you I have no ill intentions.”

“I didn’t doubt that.” All in all, Wonwoo saved his life. Despite how cryptic he’s being now, Seokmin is sure there is nothing but kindness stored in him. “Thank you again for the help.”

“Thank me later,” Wonwoo says as he adds more wood into the fireplace, “Thank me when you figure it all out.”

The fire cackles, sparks flying from Wonwoo’s fingertips as he moves his wrist in a flourish. The magic desaturates all colors from the room, shades of greys surrounding them for a brief second. When Wonwoo stands up, he has a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his gaze. 

“I’ll be gone for the rest of the day, I have some herbs I need to pick up because my pantry is almost empty. Will you be ok on your own?”

Seokmin nods his head, stretching his legs out and feeling the pain in his side starting to grow. The effect of Wonwoo’s magic is wearing down, he realizes. He doesn’t beg for more, just makes his way back to the other room and lies down under the covers, in a world of black shadows and white blankets. 

He hears the door falling shut with a thud when Wonwoo leaves the cabin, and he burrows himself further between the soft covers. At the forefront of his mind is Wonwoo’s expression when he told him he should consider all options, even the improbable ones. What was he referring to? Does he think that the healer - Seokmin can’t think of his name, because the moment he thinks of him he’s going to fall down in a panicky state once again - is dead? Does he think he’s doomed, that there’s no way Seokmin is going to find him  _ alive _ ? 

Hansol believes in him. He believes in himself as well, despite the rookie mistake he made a couple of days earlier. Now that he knows what he’s dealing with - sharp claws that tore his skin, the pain, the blood so fresh in his mind - he won’t be taking any more chances. The next time he’s going to meet the beast, it will be dead. He promises himself that. He promised it to Hansol, that he’ll find their friend. 

“Soonyoung is alive, he must be,” he says to the empty room, to the black behind his eyelids as he closes his eyes and tries to will himself to breathe in and out slowly, his heart beating wildly in his chest. 

~

Spending time with Wonwoo is pleasurable, Seokmin has to admit that. The witch isn’t very talkative in general, and likes to speak in riddles most of the time, but he has a very interesting sense of humor and a comforting presence. Seokmin discovers that Wonwoo has a familiar as well, a wildcat with pitch black fur and a tiny white spot on his left paw. His name is Hao and he doesn’t like Seokmin very much.

“He doesn’t like anyone, to be fair,” Wonwoo consoles him when Hao hisses at him and bolts out of the door, “He tolerates me at best.”

By the fourth day, Seokmin’s wound isn’t of its angry red colour anymore, and he is able to stand up for prolonged periods of time without his ribcage protesting against him. It’s progress, even if not as fast as he expected it to come. Wonwoo smiles at him when he says so, pats his head gently. He does that with Hao as well, Seokmin noticed. To be honest, he doesn’t mind the comforting touch. 

On the morning of the fifth day, Wonwoo has a client.

There is rustling from the other side of the door when Seokmin wakes up that day, shushes and whines filtering through the creaks in the wood. It’s a new voice, the one that joins Wonwoo’s in the adjacent room, one Seokmin doesn’t recognize. He paddles to the door on his tiptoes and opens it a sliver to take a peek. 

“Stop squirming,” Wonwoo commands, sounding stern and focused. He tuts when the person he’s treating doesn’t comply, a low growl echoing in the room. 

“Be careful with your hands,” the guest says through their teeth, their voice strained. Wonwoo chuckles, a sound that Seokmin hasn’t heard very often in the past few days. “You are the one that should have been careful with their hands.” The witch sounds amused, chuckling some more when the stranger whines again. 

From where he’s peeking through the door Seokmin can’t see much, so he carefully pushes the wooden surface open a bit more. 

“Your guest is spying on us,” the foreing voice immediately says, even if Seokmin is sure he didn’t make any noise. They sound distressed, probably in pain.

“Seokmin, come on out!” Wonwoo calls for him, smiling when Seokmin finally opens the door to the living room and walks towards the fireplace. The witch is kneeling there, on the floor, his hands on someone else’s leg that is battered and bruised, the end of an arrow poking out of it. A very painful wound, or so it seems. The stranger is sitting in one of the two armchairs, and Seokmin can’t see their face. 

“You should stop picking up strays,” the person says, sounding distraught, and Wonwoo replies with an earthy laugh and an eye roll. 

“Should I kick you out, then?” Wonwoo asks, pushing his fingers inside the wound and making the other jump in their seat, a surprised yelp coming out of their mouth. Seokmin is sure they’re glaring at Wonwoo, but the witch seems unperturbed. “You’ve been around here quite a lot lately,” he points out, his fingers still searching the stranger’s leg. 

“You don’t seem to mind my company that much,” they reply, smugness oozing off their tone. Another pained wheeze comes out of them as Wonwoo twists the arrow’s end, effectively shutting them up.

“I’m just doing my job,” Wonwoo states, eyes behind his glasses laser-focused on the wound.

Seokmin has made his way to the unoccupied armchair in the meantime, and he plops down on it, careful as not to strain his side in the process. The stranger turns towards him once he’s seated down, curious eyes settling on him. They ignore Wonwoo’s words, smiling at Seokmin instead, big and toothy. 

“Hi, dear friend. I heard a lot about you.”

Seokmin can’t help but feel a bit put off by their words, cocking his head to the side in confusion. 

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same about you.”

The stranger yelps again as Wonwoo tugs the arrow free from their flesh, hissing at him through their teeth. Seokmin uses that moment to take in their appearance, hair the colour of ashes, chiseled jaw and strong eyebrows. Wonwoo laughs at them as the guest growls low in their throat, snapping their teeth a breath away from the witch’s nose. It’s then that Seokmin realizes how  _ sharp _ their teeth look, how the tips of their ears poking out from strands of their hair look a bit too pointy. Fae. 

“This is Seungcheol,” Wonwoo says, his hands tying a bandage around the fae’s bleeding calf, “They’re a friend.”

“Oh, a friend?” Seungcheol cocks their head to the side, the pain already gone from their face as they regard Wonwoo with a curious look. “Is that what I am to you? Just a friend?”

“Don’t make me put this thing back into your flesh,” Wonwoo threatens, waving in the air the arrow he just took out and that he’s still clutching between his gloved fingers. 

“Sorry doc,” Seungcheol purrs, folding themselves towards Wonwoo to say the words right into his face, “I’ll be good.” Then, quieter, “Just as you like.”

Wonwoo whacks them over their head before making his way towards the kitchenette and ignoring Seungcheol’s - and Seokmin’s, even if quieter - laughs.

Seungcheol has a contagious giggle, Seokmin learns, and they seem to like Wonwoo’s magical tea as much as Seokmin does. They sit together in the living room as Wonwoo treats Seungcheol’s other wounds - there’s more than just the arrow in their leg. There are bruises on their back, a few scratches here and there. A long, raw gash running behind their head that leaves a red trail of blood over Wonwoo’s armchair. The witch doesn’t mind, fixes their injuries with the practiced ease of someone who’s done the same thing a billion times over. Seungcheol smiles at Wonwoo, white, sharp teeth glinting when they do so. Wonwoo runs his fingers through their fringe in return, whispering something that Seokmin can’t hear. 

Today Seokmin feels good, has woken up with just a subdued pain between his ribs and none of the dreams - nightmares? - he had the prior days. He feels refreshed, and that’s why he follows Wonwoo around in trying to help him fix Seungcheol’s wounds. Wonwoo doesn’t seem to mind, lets him go outside to gather some snow for him and lets him chop dried herbs he sticks over the bruises on Seungcheol’s skin. It’s nice to be useful, especially to the person that saved his life. 

“So, you’re a hunter?” Seungcheol asks while Wonwoo brews a concoction in his cauldron, his back to the both of them. Seokmin nods, trying not to shrivel under the weight of Seungcheol’s curious gaze. “I heard you almost died on the job,” the fae says, and Seokmin nods his head once again, crossing his legs and throwing a glance at Wonwoo. 

“Your so-called friend helped me out.”

“My  _ friends _ , you mean.”

“What?”

“Shut up, Seungcheol. You’re delirious. Drink this.” Wonwoo shoves a tall glass in Seungcheol’s face, a green, thick liquid in it. The fae makes a disgusted face, turning pleading eyes at Wonwoo, who just taps the bottom of the glass against their nose. “Drink it,” he repeats, and Seungcheol sighs, complying. They gulp down the potion in one single breath, making a disgusted face at the end and then showing their tongue at Wonwoo in a childish gesture. It’s green, Seokmin notices, and he wonders if it’s the drink’s doing or not. 

“What were you saying?” Seokmin tries to ask, but Wonwoo is already dragging Seungcheol up and towards the exit, a frown darkening his expression. “Cheol here has to go, that’s what they were saying.” A stern look from Wonwoo makes Seungcheol’s mouth fall shut, a sheepish little smile curling their lips. 

“Sorry,” they mouth at Seokmin before Wonwoo manages to shut the door upon their nose. “Take care of your wounds! Come back if your leg hurts!” Wonwoo yells through the door, sagging against the wood and glaring at Seokmin. 

“I didn’t do anything!” Seokmin protests, but Wonwoo doesn’t reply, just shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath. “How’s your chest?” Wonwoo asks out loud after Seokmin has curled up again in the armchair next to the fireplace, a book about magic written in runes he can barely understand in his hands. The witch is taking care of his familiar, grooming the cat’s hair while scratching his ears. Seokmin didn’t even see the animal get inside. 

To test the pain he slowly stretches his arms up towards the ceiling, making sure the movement is slow and controlled. There’s a dull ache between his ribs that makes him wince slightly, but it’s less strong than the previous day. He says so to Wonwoo, who just hums in reply. 

“So, about your friend,” Seokmin casually says, not looking at the witch but feeling his eyes on him nonetheless. 

“If you’re not feeling well you should rest, Seokmin,” Wonwoo replies, tone flat as he pierces through Seokmin’s skull with his gaze. Seokmin is deeply amused, but he doesn’t let it show on his face, burying his nose further inside the book between his hands. “They seemed fun,” Seokmin goes on, unperturbed by Wonwoo’s words, “How do you know each other?”

There’s a deep sigh coming from the general direction of Wonwoo, and then the pitter-patter of paws on the floor as Hao makes his way towards the fireplace. Seokmin watches intently as the cat curls up in front of the fire, throwing a nasty glare in Seokmin’s general direction before hiding his face behind one of his paws. 

“Seungcheol helped me out too many times to count,” Wonwoo says after a while, taking a seat next to Seokmin. There’s a little frown on his face as he speaks. “You know how fae’s magic works, I imagine.”

Seokmin isn’t a magic expert, but he has a general knowledge of any potential threat that he could encounter. A mad fae is one of those, and so he knows how their magic exists, how it bends the corners of reality and permeates everything they touch. Once you get close to one of them, it’s almost impossible to let them go - because you become dependent on them, in a way. Being a witch, Wonwoo is even more allured by their powers. There’s something in his blood calling for them. 

“They seem nice,” Seokmin points out, and he sees Wonwoo nodding his head in agreement. “They are. Most times, at least.” 

Seokmin tries not to snort at the implications, but fails miserably when he meets Wonwoo’s gaze. 

“Not a word about that,” Wonwoo threatens, and Seokmin hides his face between the old pages to avoid his stern gaze. Red is blooming on the apples of Wonwoo’s cheeks, but Seokmin pretends he doesn’t notice it. 

“Not a word.”

Later that night, when he’s lying in bed on his uninjured side, Seokmin thinks of the way Wonwoo had looked at Seungcheol, of the tender gestures he used on the fae, of the sparkle he had in his eyes whenever he looked at them. 

A shiver runs through him, the feeling of being watched making him burrow further below the covers. Maybe the recurring nightmares he’s having are at fault, but every night before falling asleep he’s sure there’s  _ something  _ keeping an eye on him. He’s made sure that isn’t the case, he’s checked the small room several times and made sure the window is sealed shut, but the feeling just won’t leave him alone. It’s maddening, it makes him feel vulnerable - it makes him think of the blood he left on the white snow, in the darkness of the woods, where the creature that attacked him could have easily killed him.

Surviving has given him nightmares, and the feeling of being out of place. Of having experienced a stroke of luck he’s not sure he should have had. Surviving tastes like black charcoal in his mouth. 

~

Seokmin is pretty sure that Soonyoung’s eyes have never been green. He’s sure - he could swear on it, could bet his  _ life _ on it - that Soonyoung’s eyes are a warm shade of brown, the one of melted chocolate his mom pours over strawberries when he and his sisters have been good enough to warrant a sweet treat. 

Soonyoung’s eyes aren’t green, and yet here they are, glowing in jade shades as Seokmin gets lost into them.

“I missed you,” Soonyoung is saying, his hair not as short as Seokmin remembers it, curled into waves that fall over his forehead. Before he can think better of it, Seokmin reaches over to comb it out of his face, letting his fingers brush against the side of his jaw in the process. Soonyoung’s eyes fall shut at the touch, his bottom lip quivering like he’s holding back tears.

“I missed you so, so much,” Soonyoung repeats, his voice coming out in a whisper, so soft Seokmin could think it was the wind. “I was so scared you would die.”

The forest around them is humming with life, hues of gold and orange in the flowers on the ground next to their feet. The smell of rain is persistent in the air, the grass below their feet shining wet. The woods feel like a safe place, somewhere they can be themselves. Someplace they can be together freely. 

“Why would I die?” Seokmin finds himself saying, the words tumbling off his tongue without a thought. That makes Soonyoung open his eyes again, and the gaze he traps Seokmin with has the same shade of green of the trees surrounding them, so vivid Seokmin wonders if it’s always been like that. 

“Don’t you remember?” Soonyoung asks, covering Seokmin’s hand on his cheek with his own fingers, squeezing slightly. There’s an emotion on his face that Seokmin can’t name, and he finds himself taking a step forward, falling into the gravitational pull that Soonyoung always had on him. He keeps on falling for him, no matter how hard he tries to stop himself. 

“What is there to remember?” 

All there is to know is that Soonyoung is here, very real, very alive. His flesh is soft and warm, his cheeks are rosy, his eyes are glowing in the colour of fresh leaves. His pink lips cover his teeth when the smile falls off his face.

“I remember you leaving,” Soonyoung replies, something flashing in his gaze as he says that, something that looks dangerous. It’s a glint of colour Seokmin can’t perceive, the ghost of knowledge grazing his brain but not piercing through it. “I remember you saying that you would come back stronger, that you will come back to protect me.”

Soonyoung’s grip over Seokmin’s fingers is growing tighter as he speaks, his voice rising in volume. 

“I remember you saying that you would never let anything happen to me.”

“I wouldn’t,” Seokmin whines out as Soonyoung’s hand forces his own away from his face, as his eyes harden. It’s steel that is staring back at him now, Soonyoung taking a step back, avoiding Seokmin’s attempt at reaching for his hand. “I would never let you get hurt,” Seokmin promises, but it seems to fall on deaf years. Soonyoung takes yet another step in the opposite direction. 

“You promised,” Soonyoung repeats, not hearing Seokmin’s pleas. The distance between them seems to grow, sidereal space separating them. The rubber band that ties him to Soonyoung is stretching too much, and Seokmin is afraid that it will snap, causing damage. He takes a small step forward, but Soonyoung is too far away now, unreachable. 

In the light coming from above, below the green sun beams filtering through the foliage, Soonyoung looks ethereal, a vision of beauty and grace, a celestial creature that isn’t supposed to be there in the first place. His gaze feels like an electric shock over Seokmin’s skin. When he speaks again, his voice echoes around them, an urgency in his tone that wasn’t there mere moments before. 

The flowers around them seem to bend due to the power of his words, or maybe to the wind that has picked up and is now ruffling the hair on top of his head. 

“Help!” Soonyoung cries out, his hollow tone making goosebumps erupt on the surface of Seokmin’s skin. The hunter tries to take one more step in the direction of his friend, but he soon realizes that his feet are stuck in place. When he looks down, the grass has disappeared; he’s standing in a pool of red liquid that is sticking to his shoes, so thick it feels like molasses. The level of it keeps on rising, submerging his boots, covering his pants. It seems to come from everywhere, seems like Seokmin can’t escape it. 

The crimson fluid reaches his calves now, and Seokmin feels a force pulling him down, trying to make him sink to his knees. He resists it, screaming when  _ something _ clutches his ankle and yanks it, making him lose his balance.

The blood - it’s with a start that he realizes what exactly is around him, what’s the smell of iron in the air - reaches his hips now. The pull towards the ground gets stronger, feeling like the earth is shaking below his feet. There’s so much blood around him - too much, Seokmin doesn’t understand where it’s coming from. His hands are covered in it, palms stained in scarlet. Another yank, and Seokmin almost falls to his knees. 

When he raises his head to search for Soonyoung in the red sea that is slowly surrounding him, he finds black eyes staring right at him. 

“Help me,” Soonyoung repeats, his loud voice doubling, sounding like there’s more than one person talking at the same time inside of him. It’s Soonyoung’s familiar tone, and it’s not. “Help me, Seokmin.” 

Seokmin tries to open his mouth, tries to scream for help, but the blood is up to his chin now; as soon as he opens his lips the thick substance gets past them. He swallows it down, gasping for air, but there’s too much of it. All he can see is red when he moves, his cries for help getting stuck in his throat together with the crimson liquid filling his lungs. The last thing he sees is the black of Soonyoung’s eyes. 

~

A loud scream pierces the air as Seokmin sits up in bed, his hand clutching his sleep shirt - Wonwoo’s sleep shirt that he so kindly gave Seokmin the first night he took him in. It’s drenched in sweat, and below it Seokmin can feel his heart going haywire, beating so fast it drones out everything else - except the yells. 

It’s then that Seokmin becomes fully aware of his surroundings, and of the fact that the piercing wails are coming out of his own mouth. It takes him some minutes to calm down, some more for his heart rate to go back to its normal pace. There's a sliver of light coming inside the room from the curtains drawn over the window: it’s probably mid morning already. A full breath in later, Seokmin feels calmer, his wound dully aching because of the sudden way he sat up. He raises the fabric covering his ribs to take a peek at the pink, ugly gash. It looks like it’s healing well. 

The nightmare doesn’t stick in his brain, just leaves him feeling like he ran a marathon. He’s not sure  _ why  _ he’s having these dreams, but he’s pretty sure they’re getting worse with each day passing; the impending sense of doom that the last one left hovering on him makes a shiver run up his spine. 

It’s then, in the silence that follows his loud awakening, that Seokmin hears faint knocking. 

“Wonwoo!” He calls out when he realizes no one is answering the door, yet he receives no answer from the witch. When he puts his feet on the ground he has to steady himself by putting both his hands on the mattress, his legs wobbling under him. The knocks grow more insistent, the sound echoing throughout the cabin. Seokmin figures it must be Seungcheol coming back to get their wounds checked out - or to pester Wonwoo some more, one of the two. 

He wobbles towards the front door, yelling Wonwoo’s name once more to no avail. The witch must be out. The hammering has grown stronger and stronger, feeling like bullets pittering the surface of Seokmin’s still sleep-addled brain. “I’m coming!” He says to the wooden surface, finally opening up and effectively stopping the knocking. “Hello!” Seokmin tells the person on the other side of the door, being sure to put on his most charming smile.

Said smile falls off his face as soon as he sees who is standing outside, white snowflakes trapped between strands of black curly hair, cheeks ashen, brown eyes as big as saucers as they meet Seokmin’s ones. 

“Soonyoung.”

The hunter has the time to whisper his name before Soonyoung falls forward, wailing in what is clearly pain. Seokmin’s fast reflexes come in handy, his arms catching Soonyoung to support him before he goes crashing against the ground. They’re both unsteady on their feet, yet Seokmin doesn’t let go of him when Soonyoung clutches at his shirt, fists curling up in the white fabric. When he looks up at him Seokmin notices a scratch on his cheek that looks fresh, a trail of blood dirtying his jaw. 

“Seokmin,” Soonyoung says, his eyes unfocused as he stares at him like he’s just seen a ghost.  _ Likewise _ , Seokmin thinks,  _ I thought you were dead _ .

It hits him like a ton of bricks to the face, the reality of what just passed through his mind. All this time he’s been pretending that he believed he would find Soonyoung still alive, when in his heart he had already given up all hope.

“What a fool,” he says out loud, receiving a confused eyebrow raise back from Soonyoung. They’re still standing in the entrance, and the wind is starting to make Seokmin feel how cold it is outside, where snow is falling down in slow spirals. He makes sure Soonyoung can move before dragging him inside, the snowflakes trapped in his hair melting immediately as soon as the door is closed behind their backs. With one of his arms supporting Soonyoung, Seokmin walks them in front of the fireplace, where he guides him to sit in one of the well-lived armchairs. It feels a bit of a familiar scene, as he kneels down in front of Soonyoung and looks up at him. 

Soonyoung has his eyes closed, breathing troubled. Despite the warmth in the room his skin looks pale, and he’s shivering like he can’t feel the flames on his skin. Careful not to hurt him, Seokmin puts one of his hands on his knee, squeezing gently.

“Soonyoung,” he whispers again, the name feeling familiar on the tip of his tongue, but foreing all the same. He hasn’t said it in a very long time, and uttering it in the presence of Soonyoung himself is incredible on its own, even more so given that Seokmin was convinced he would never see Soonyoung alive again. “Should I bring something to warm you up?” Seokmin asks, his voice barely audible as he speaks in a hushed murmur. A nod from Soonyoung is all it takes for him to get on his feet, looking for something he can wrap Soonyoung in.

When he comes back he has all the covers from his bed in his arms. Soonyoung doesn’t react when Seokmin starts to gently put them around him, making sure not to jostle him too much. Beside the gash over his cheek there aren’t any other visible wounds, but Seokmin is sure that’s not the only one Soonyoung has. He sits on the floor and stares at Soonyoung while the older’s breaths calm down bit by bit.

Time seems to slow down as Seokmin’s eyes roam over Soonyoung. The healer is dressed in shades of black, clothes too thin for the weather they’re currently in. There are fur-lined boots on his feet at least, and Seokmin realizes soon by watching Soonyoung’s body being shaken by shivers that the fabrics he’s wearing must be drenched because of the snow.

“Soonyoung,” Seokmin repeats, not getting any sign of acknowledgement back from the older man. He tries again.

“Soonyoung.”

In a flutter of eyelashes, Soonyoung opens his eyes, his gaze glassy when he finally finds Seokmin’s face. It takes him some time to gain full consciousness again, or so it seems. 

“What?” He croaks out, his voice coming out strangled. It still feels so surreal to see Soonyoung sitting in front of him, to hear him talk with his own ears. For a brief second Seokmin wonders if this isn’t yet another dream. Taking the skin of his forearm between his thumb and index he pinches it slightly. It seems very much real. 

Soonyoung is looking straight at him, waiting for him to speak. Seokmin recoils.

“Are your clothes wet?” He asks, reaching out to touch Soonyoung’s knee once again and realizing that yes, the fabric seems to be drenched. It makes sense that Soonyoung is still feeling the cold now. “Do you want a change of clothes?”

“I’m not sure I can actually move enough to get changed.” There’s a pause during which Soonyoung slowly blinks a couple of times, clearly spacing out. “Fuck, I think I’ve got a concussion.” 

“I can help you,” Seokmin tells him, “Let me go find a change of clothes.”

“Seokmin.” Soonyoung sounds more alert now, his gaze piercing through Seokmin with intensity. The flames of the fire burn on the back of Seokmin’s head, sweat starting to gather at his hairline. “Be quick. You need to make sure that I don’t fall asleep.” 

Another pause as Soonyoung sits straighter in the chair, shivering as he drags the covers tighter around his body. “Where’s Wonwoo?”

Before he can think better of it, Seokmin is on his feet, moving towards the other room in pursuit of something suitable for Soonyoung to change into. 

“He wasn’t here when I woke up earlier.” It takes Seokmin a full minute for his mind to register Soonyoung’s words. He peeks through the door back into the living room, finds out that Soonyoung is turned into his direction. “Wait, you know Wonwoo?”

“I do.” Soonyoung doesn’t elaborate, and Seokmin doesn’t pry. He guesses there’s going to be time to talk about it, to talk about  _ everything _ . For now the priority is to make sure that Soonyoung is going to be fine. The room he’s been sleeping isn’t furnished with much, just the bed, an old mirror, a bookshelf full of dusty volumes, and a dresser. Seokmin opens the first drawer to find more books stacked in it, and he huffs as he closes it once again. 

“Are you hungry?” Seokmin yells, just to make sure that Soonyoung hasn’t fallen asleep on him. There’s a chuckle coming from the other room, one that Seokmin hasn’t heard in a very long time. It makes his heart accelerate, its beating increasing as he opens the second drawer. 

“A bit!” Soonyoung confirms, laughter still clinging to his words. “I would kill for a cup of Wonwoo’s tea.” 

There are some clothes neatly folded in the third drawer Seokmin opens, and he takes a breath of relief as he brings a pair of pants and a sweater to Soonyoung. The older has his head rolled back against the armchair, his throat stretched and one of his collarbones exposed by his falling shirt. There’s a tear in it, Seokmin realizes, and there’s even more dried blood on the skin of Soonyoung’s neck. His eyes are closed, but he opens them as soon as he hears Seokmin approaching. 

“Here,” Seokmin kneels in front of Soonyoung once again, showing him the outfit he found. 

“I’m gonna look like a dwarf in Wonwoo’s clothes,” Soonyoung whines, but he sits up straighter, starting to get out of the cocoon of blankets he’s been enveloped into. There’s a hint of a grin on his lips as he raises his arms in the air, as if inviting Seokmin to help him get rid of his shirt, and Seokmin can’t help but let out a snort through his nose. 

He’s careful as to drag the fabric up and away from Soonyoung’s skin, trying not to stare at his naked torso like a creep, but he can’t help noticing a few bruises along his ribs. Soonyoung seems to have grown up in the years they haven’t seen each other, his shoulders rounder, his arms bigger. The muscles in his abdomen are well defined, Seokmin notices, and suddenly the room feels a thousand degrees hotter. Soonyoung shivers, and Seokmin wonders how exactly is he still feeling cold given that there’s the temperature of literal hell in there. Or maybe it’s just him. 

There aren’t other visible bleeding wounds on Soonyoung’s middle, so Seokmin takes the long-sleeved shirt he’s found in Wonwoo’s drawer and gently pulls it over Soonyoung’s head, letting him adjust it on his own. Soonyoung sighs when the dry fabric makes contact with his skin. 

“I think I can manage with the pants,” Soonyoung tells him, clearly reading the panic on his face at the prospect of having to undress him even more. “There’s a scrape on my thigh, but it should be nothing major.” 

Seokmin tries really hard not to stare as Soonyoung wriggles out of his soaked pants, but he’s kneeling on the floor in front of where he’s sitting, and he has to make sure he doesn’t get furthermore injured as he changes. It’s with that excuse that he stares as creamy skin comes into view, Soonyoung’s thighs looking deliciously thick in the golden light of the flames. As he said, there’s a scratch running up from his knees to the middle of his left thigh, but it looks shallow, nothing to worry about. 

“Should we clean it up?” Seokmin demands before he can stop himself anyway, unable to look away from the expense of muscles being revealed in front of his eyes. “I think that’s going to be alright,” Soonyoung replies, sounding amused. When he finally looks up, Seokmin finds him staring right at him. “You can clean the cuts on my face, if you want to help. I don’t think I can do it on my own, I still feel dizzy.”

It takes him a while to find bandages in Wonwoo’s cupboards, but when he makes his way back to the floor at Soonyoung’s feet he discovers that the older has finished changing and has re-buried himself between the blankets, only his face peeking out of the cocoon he’s made for himself. 

Soonyoung’s eyelids fall shut when Seokmin runs a wet cloth over his cheek, making sure to keep his head steady by gripping his chin with gentle fingers. “Does it hurt?” Seokmin asks, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. The noise that Soonyoung makes could mean anything, but Seokmin doesn’t feel like prying, keeps on gently scrubbing the wound on his cheek. It looked more shallow from a distance, but now that he’s looking at it up close Seokmin can see that it’s still bleeding. 

“Do you think I need stitches?” Soonyoung demands, his breath fanning over Seokmin’s fingers as he speaks. “You know I’m not a healer. I’m not sure,” Seokmin turns his head slightly so he can take a better look at the angry red gash. It starts just below his cheekbone, next to his nose, and runs down diagonally to his jaw. It doesn’t look good. 

“I can wait for Wonwoo to take a look at it, then. Just clean it and stop the bleeding.”

“Yes chief,” Seokmin replies, following the healer’s instructions. He focuses on the work he’s been assigned to avoid starting firing a million questions to Soonyoung, removing dirt and dried up blood from the side of his face. The silence is only interrupted by the sound of the flames crackling. 

Seokmin does his best to stop the bleeding, making sure Soonyoung’s cheek is covered in gauze before letting go of his chin to take a better look at him. Familiar brown irises stare back at him when Soonyoung finally opens his eyes. 

“I have a very big lump at the back of my head,” Soonyoung says, one of his hands coming up to touch it; a hiss leaves his mouth as soon as his fingers make contact with the damaged area. He checks that his fingertips don’t come away bloodied before smiling at Seokmin.

“At least I didn’t break any more skin.”

“But you have a concussion.”

“I suppose so. I feel quite,” a pause as Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows in search for the right word, “confused? It’s a peculiar sensation, it feels like I’m moving too slowly to keep up with the rest of the world.”

Seokmin can’t help himself; his hand finds its way between Soonyoung’s wavy locks, combing through them in a gesture that should feel out of place given that they haven’t seen each other in eight years. Instead of recoiling, Soonyoung leans into his touch. 

“You’re going to be fine.” 

“I surely hope so.” Soonyoung inhales deeply, his own fingers coming up to encircle Seokmin’s wrist. The moment seems to expand as they stare at each other, Soonyoung’s blinking so slow Seokmin thinks he’s going to fall asleep on him. Instead, Soonyoung speaks, his voice sounding delicate and on the verge of breaking down like a fragile shard of glass.

“I missed you,” Soonyoung says, and Seokmin feels like the whole world could disappear in that exact instant and it wouldn’t make any difference to him. Soonyoung’s presence is like a black hole, its force so strong Seokmin has no way to get away from it even if he tried. All the lights, all the sounds get absorbed by the presence of Soonyoung in that room, at that moment. There are stars sparkling in Soonyoung’s gaze as he gently rubs his thumb over Seokmin’s wrist. “I missed you so much.”

Seokmin realizes he’s crying when Soonyoung’s other hand brushes against his cheeks to wipe his tears, an ugly sob wrecking his body when Soonyoung shushes him softly, mumbling some nonsense that Seokmin can’t hear over the sound of his own sniffles. It takes him a while to calm down, and when he does and he can finally see through the tears he finds Soonyoung smiling at him, his expression open and vulnerable. It knocks his breath away.

“You’re such a big baby,” Soonyoung tells him, his grin growing when Seokmin whines against the statement. “You’ve always cried so easily.”

“I missed you, too.”

Soonyoung’s eyes disappear into two crescent moons at Seokmin’s words, his whole face lighting up with joy. 

“I’m so glad you’re alive and well. I was afraid I would never see you again.”

“I’m here,” Soonyoung tells him, cupping Seokmin’s face between his palms, looking like he’s considering saying other words. He opens his mouth, “Seokmin,” he says, but before he can finish the sentence the front door gets opened and bangs against the wall with a loud noise that makes both of them turn towards it.

“Hey, I brought you some fresh bread!” Wonwoo announces to the room. A minute passes before he takes in the scene before his eyes, but he’s quick to move as soon as he spots Soonyoung sitting on the armchair, Seokmin still kneeling in front of him. The witch closes the door behind him, a somber expression on his face.

“Are you alright?” Wonwoo asks, moving quickly around the room, his hands flailing as he silently casts numerous spells. Water is boiling on top of the stove before Seokmin has time to get up from his spot. “You should tell me, doc,” Soonyoung replies, “Seokmin did what he could but I think you should do a check up.”

A cup of tea is between Soonyoung’s hands in the blink of an eye, Wonwoo fussing around him as he checks his wounds and tuts in annoyance at the state of them. Seokmin is glad to be able just to sit and observe as Soonyoung makes jokes and teases the witch, his smile never faltering from his face even as Wonwoo smears red paste that is supposed to sting over the wound on his face . 

The brown of Soonyoung’s gaze reminds Seokmin of the forest, of the days they used to spend together back then running between the branches and bushes, picking flowers and following butterflies.

Soonyoung smiles at him when they make eye contact, pearly white teeth shining. Seokmin finally feels at home. 

~

Seokmin is running. His breath is troubled, coming out of his mouth in condensation clouds, barely visible in the dark. There’s a sharp pain in his side that tells him he’s been fleeing for far too long, his heart beating in overdrive and drowning out every other sound. 

He knows that if he stops, if he falls, there’s no way he will survive. His wounds are too deep, his blood leaving an easy trail to follow on the dried-up grass, on the fallen leaves he’s crunching under his boots with every step he takes. His body is driven by pure adrenaline, survival instinct kicking in and making fatigue disappear.

There’s a growl behind his back; he can hear the monster creeping up on him, can feel its reeking breath despite the distance still separating them. It smells of rotten corpses and rancid blood, his stomach lurching as it hits his nostrils. He grits his teeth together and focuses on the rhythm of his run, on taking bigger steps, on avoiding rocks and fallen branches on the path. The beast wails again, and Seokmin feels its eyes on his back.

Soon enough he realizes he’s clutching his knife between his fingers, the hilt of it cold against his skin. He checks his hip holster, finding it empty. The gun must have fallen, or he lost it along the way. Maybe he discarded it because he ran out of bullets, he can’t remember. It’s an all or nothing situation, Seokmin reasons. If he keeps on running he could probably make it to safety, but what if he falls. What if he stumbles, goes crashing down against the uneven ground. There’s no way he would survive. 

It’s a matter of seconds before he’s made his decision, stopping in his tracks abruptly to turn around and face the danger. The grip he has on the knife grows tighter, and he extends his arm forward to keep the beast at bay, a war cry making its way past his lips. 

Except, when he turns around what he finds in front of him leaves him so baffled that he loses his grasp over the weapon, the blade falling from his fingers with a dull thud when it bounces over a rock. 

“Soonyoung?” Seokmin asks, staring at his friend with bewilderment written all over his face. There’s surprise written all over Soonyoung’s face as well, his eyes glowing in shades of orange as if flames were burning inside of them; Seokmin finds himself staring at them as they change, as mutable as fire. 

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung asks, taking a step towards him. He moves without making a sound, the fabric of his clothes and the strands of his hair being ruffled by the force of an invisible wind. “Why are you bleeding?” 

Seokmin looks down at his hands, then at his torso. There are holes in his shirt, angry red wounds burning on his exposed skin, fresh blood covering his palms when he tries to press them against the gashes. “Are you alright?” Soonyoung asks, but Seokmin can’t reply, his voice stuck inside his throat. When he tries to speak, a sharp stabbing pain in his side makes him yelp as he doubles over, hands coming to cover his ribs. Soonyoung calls for his name once again, but Seokmin can’t focus on anything that isn’t the hot, throbbing ache just below his ribs. 

“Seokmin,” Soonyoung says again, his voice sounding closer now. When Seokmin looks up at him the red halo around his irises glows, making it hard to look away. “Seokmin,” Soonyoung repeats, his hand reaching out to touch his wound, as if trying to help. 

When Soonyoung’s fingers touch his skin Seokmin falls to his knees, all of his nerves burning in agony. A cry for help makes it past his lips, so loud it echoes all around them. Soonyoung crouches down in front of him, his hand still plastered to Seokmin’s wound, still scorching. It feels like he’s being electrocuted, like his whole body has been doused in gasoline and set aflame. There are tears at the corners of his eyes when he looks up, meeting Soonyoung’s steady gaze. 

Red glows in front of him, swimming in his vision, the pain so hot it makes his throat close up, breathing getting harder. 

Seokmin tries to claw Soonyoung’s hold away from his side, but Soonyoung’s grip is too strong, his fingers uselessly scratching the back of his hand. He knows he’s screaming, hot tears falling down his face, but he can’t do anything but wither against Soonyoung’s clutch. 

“Seokmin,” Soonyoung’s voice calls for him, but it’s not exactly his. It’s deeper, sounds like it comes directly from the middle of the woods, where scary creatures hide in the dark, where Seokmin doesn’t want to go, where his fears are stored. “Seokmin,” Soonyoung repeats, a smile appearing on his lips, revealing a shiny row of teeth so sharp they could probably tear through his flesh, cutting him into pieces. Seokmin’s mouth opens on another scream, but Soonyoung’s hold on him grows stronger, the pain so sudden, so intense that his voice dies in him, his head lolling forward. 

He’s on the verge of passing out, black spots appearing in front of him as he stares at the ground, at the blood pooling around him, dripping out of him in a steady flow, drop after drop. He thinks of his sister as he feels life slowly leaving his body, of the way he left her alone once again. 

Soonyoung’s hand tightens in his flesh, and Seokmin lets himself collapse forward, falling between his arms. 

“Seokmin, wake up.”

~

“Seokmin.”

Seokmin’s eyes open slowly, a dull throbbing in his side making him vaguely conscious of the fact that he must have fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position, with his ribs pressed against something hard. There are fingers tangled in his hair, soft caresses massaging his scalp. It feels calming, sleep pulling at his brain once again. 

“Seokmin, wake up,” Soonyoung’s voice repeats, making his eyes snap open. He remembers pointy teeth, remembers red eyes glowing at him. He realizes he was sleeping with his head nestled against Soonyoung’s thigh, sitting on the floor at his feet, his side pressed against the side of the armchair. When he looks up he finds chocolate irises staring at him curiously. 

“You were whining like you were in pain,” Soonyoung tells him, his fingers still running through Seokmin’s dark locks. The remnants of the dream are still stuck in his throat, making it hard to vocalize his thoughts, so he just lets his head fall again against Soonyoung’s thigh instead of replying. 

“Food is almost ready,” Wonwoo informs them from the other side of the room, where he’s cooking something on the stove. The smell of soup hits Seokmin’s nostrils and he sits up straighter, stretching his arms towards the ceiling, feeling the wound protesting at the movement. “Thank you, Won!” Soonyoung replies, his hand falling away from Seokmin’s scalp. He stands up slowly, blankets still draped around his shoulders as he paddles towards the cramped table. 

Seokmin feels like a fool as he watches from a distance and all he wants to do is follow him and bury himself in his embrace.

“Are you coming, Seok?” Soonyoung calls for him, waving a spoon in the air. Seokmin goes after him like a lost puppy.

They eat their meal in relative silence, while Wonwoo’s eyes keep on fleeting between the two of them, wary. The atmosphere is weird, but not uncomfortable. Soonyoung’s hand slips below the table at some point to position itself over Seokmin’s knee, and Seokmin can’t focus on his food anymore, almost choking on a bite of bread that gets stuck in his throat at the sudden contact. Wonwoo has the decency to hide his knowing smile behind a cup. 

“Did you tell him everything?” The witch asks at some point, gaining a glare from Soonyoung in the process. “Tell me what?” 

Silence stretches around them as Seokmin regards Soonyoung, waiting for his friend to speak, to explain what Wonwoo is referring to. 

“Not yet, thanks a lot, Won.” Soonyoung sounds exhausted, his gaze fixed on the food in his plate instead of either of them. His face is almost as white as the bandage on his cheek. 

A pout curls the witch’s lips, his glasses moving when he scrunches his nose. 

“Aren’t you curious, Seokmin? You said Soonyoung disappeared.”

“I never said his name,” Seokmin points out, suddenly feeling like he’s missing the punchline of an incredibly convoluted joke. His eyes move between Wonwoo, who has a small smirk on his face, and Soonyoung, who looks like he’d like to be anywhere else but there. “You didn’t need to. Didn’t you ask yourself why I wasn’t surprised when you told me someone disappeared?”

“But you were.”

“No, I was only confused when you mentioned that there were  _ people  _ missing. Multiple ones.”

Seokmin suddenly feels like the earth is crumbling below his feet, leaving a chasm that will swallow him whole. 

“You knew where Soonyoung was all this time?” Seokmin asks, because he can’t help it. He can’t stop himself. Inside his mind there's chaos, questions he wants to ask, words he wants to say, but they all die on the tip of his tongue when Soonyoung’s hand slips away from its place over his knee. A glance at his face tells Seokmin more than words can say. There’s guilt written all over it.

“I knew where he was,” Wonwoo confirms, “He came to me several months ago for help.”

Seokmin knows his hands are shaking. A deep breath in, then a deep breath out. 

“He came to me again some days ago, with you in his arms, almost dead.”

It hits him then, like a punch in the guts. The memory of that night resurfaces, Soonyoung with messy hair, Soonyoung kneeling over him in the snow, Soonyoung calling his name, telling him that he wasn’t allowed to die. Soonyoung, real, alive. 

He thought that was a dream as well, but now that he’s putting all the pieces together he can see the whole picture. The man that came crashing through the door that morning is the exact same man of his dreams, a man he hasn’t seen in eight years. How did he know what he looked like if he’d never seen him before?

His vision is blurring shapes together, his instincts telling him he should get up, get his weapons and get  _ the fuck out of there _ . Instead he raises his head, finding Soonyoung staring at him, his eyes filled with unshed tears.

“It was me who hurt you,” Soonyoung chokes out, his hands gripping the edge of the table, blunt nails digging into the wooden surface. “It was me. I almost killed you.” 

When he starts crying it takes Seokmin aback more than his words do, the sudden need to reach out, to comfort settling right below his sternum, squeezing his heart. It’s a sight he’s not used to. Soonyoung has always been the strong one between the two of them, the one that dried Seokmin’s tears and gave him words of encouragement. A sob wrecks Soonyoung, and Seokmin feels it like a stab to his ribs. 

“It wasn’t your intention,” Wonwoo interjects, producing a handkerchief out of nowhere and passing it to Soonyoung. The older one ignores him, his eyes focused solely on Seokmin. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs through troubled breaths. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I would never hurt you, Seok. You know that, right?”

Seokmin stares as Wonwoo stands up to put his arms around Soonyoung, lets him cling to his robes and cry his heart out. There’s white noise in his ears, the world feeling blurred out as he tries to process what exactly is happening in front of his eyes. The more Soonyoung cries, the more Seokmin feels like his heart is about to break in a billion tiny fragments. 

“I don’t understand,” Seokmin says at some point, more to himself than to the room, but that only seems to aggravate the situation given how loud Soonyoung’s wails become. The whispers Wonwoo is saying against the top of his head don’t seem to be enough for him to calm down, his shirt soaking up Soonyoung’s tears where he’s hiding his face against Wonwoo’s stomach. 

“Soonyoung,” Seokmin tries to call his name, first softly, then with more force. It seems to work, because suddenly Soonyoung’s blood-shot eyes are on him. “Soon, hey,” Seokmin reaches out to wipe his tears, but that only makes Soonyoung sob harder. “Don’t cry. Tell me what happened.”

It takes a while for Soonyoung to calm down, whimpers wrecking his body, shaking him through his core ever so often. Seokmin patiently waits for him to find his words again, as Wonwoo walks to the stove to make some more tea for the three of them.

“It was the Council that asked me to help her,” Soonyoung begins, his words barely above a whisper. Seokmin drags his chair closer to hear him better. There are dried tear tracks over Soonyoung’s cheeks and Seokmin wants to kiss them away. “She came during a summer night, her child in her arms. There was something inherently wrong with the kid.”

A shiver runs through Soonyoung despite the way he’s covered in several layers of clothing. Seokmin feels the eternal pull tugging his insides and drawing him closer to Soonyoung.

“I did my best to help her, I did everything I could. I even came all the way into the forest to get Wonwoo’s help, since I knew he could use white magic. There was nothing to be done. She passed away between my arms.”

Soonyoung’s eyes are unfocused, as if he’s reliving the memories he’s recounting, a concentrated frown on his face. His breathing is calmer now, and Seokmin reaches his hand out to gently touch his knee in encouragement. It gets Soonyoung to smile at him, small but beautiful nonetheless.

“The Council told me to take the job, and then told me I should be the one to deliver the bad news. She was devastated.” His whole face darkens, like a sunny sky being covered by rainy clouds. “She was mad.”

“It was not your fault,” Wonwoo says, putting three cups full of magical tea on the table before gently patting Soonyoung over his head. 

“It wasn’t, but that didn’t stop her.”

Soonyoung’s gaze is lost somewhere in the past, over the horrors he’s seen while Seokmin wasn’t there, while Seokmin was away battling his own beasts. 

“She was a user of dark magic.”

There are rules in their village. One of them is to shun all users of dark magic, to avoid having any contact with them. They’re dangerous, unstable; they can implode and take the whole town with them. 

“We didn’t know. No one managed to figure it out. She looked like a desperate mother, not a ticking bomb.” Seokmin realizes he’s squeezing Soonyoung’s knee when his friend’s hand covers his, gently prying his fingers loose. Instead of moving it away after that, Soonyoung intertwines them together. “She came to me on a full moon night, screaming, howling that I was a  _ monster _ , that I took her child away and that I  _ owed _ her.”

The wind howls outside. 

“And she cursed me.”

It clicks, the sound of a gunshot echoing inside Seokmin’s head.

“It’s you.” Soonyoung’s eyes are warm, and brown, and as sweet as Seokmin remembers them from his memories and from his dreams. “You’re the monster in the woods.”

Soonyoung takes a sip from his cup before replying to the accusation, still holding Seokmin’s hand in his. 

“It’s me.”

“How does it work?”

It’s with an incredible ease that all the intel he’s gathered falls together to show Seokmin the truth. The beast in the woods, the one he wanted to hunt because he thought it stole his best friend from him  _ is  _ actually his best friend. If the situation wasn’t so grim he would laugh. 

“It’s the moon. She tied my fate to it,” Soonyoung explains, sounding resigned, “Every single time the moon is up in the sky I become what you saw in the woods that night.”

A blur of black in the darkness, sharp claws, teeth as long as Seokmin’s forearm. A weapon made to kill. A  _ monster _ . 

“I came to Wonwoo to seek help, but we haven’t figured out how to stop the curse yet.”

“It’s been months,” Wonwoo adds, “He’s not as dangerous as he seems, I make sure that he doesn’t hurt anyone. But he does get hungry.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Soonyoung’s fingers squeeze Seokmin’s, his eyes pleading, “I saw the knife in your hand, the gun. I got scared. You looked  _ mad _ .”

The tea is getting cold inside his cup, but Seokmin can’t tear his gaze away from Soonyoung, from the way his lips curl down in a pout as he asks Seokmin to believe him, to trust him. It feels a bit like madness, but Seokmin nods his head. 

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.” He realizes he believes in what he’s saying; the Soonyoung in front of him is the same Soonyoung he used to know, the boy who always tried to protect him and make him smile.

Soonyoung seems to deflate, tension leaving his body together with his breath.

“I also didn’t recognize you immediately,” his friend adds, “You’ve grown quite a lot.”

“So have you,” Seokmin finds himself saying. Wonwoo coughs. “Stop flirting right in front of my tea.” Soonyoung kicks him under the table, and the witch yelps in pain.

They all laugh. It almost seems like everything is going to be ok. 

“Wait, aren’t you going to turn tonight?” Seokmin asks at some point, when he notices that night is slowly falling out of the window, dusk painting the snow in shades of purple. 

“It’s the new moon,” Soonyoung explains, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance, either on the white glint of snow outside the window or on his reflection on the glass. “I’m gonna stay human for a couple of days.” He sounds tired, like he’s lost all hope. Seokmin wants to reassure him, to tell him that everything’s going to be well, but he knows it would be an empty promise. There’s no way he can figure out how to break a curse if a witch and a fae have tried everything in their capabilities. 

When Soonyoung slips in bed next to him that night, his arms around Seokmin’s torso and his head against Seokmin’s back, the younger can’t help but pray to the darkness, hoping that the moment could be stretched on forever. 

~

The sound of water fills the air as Seokmin walks between the trees, his senses guiding him towards his favourite spot in the woods. By now he knows the path like the back of his hand, knows where to put his feet and where to jump, where he needs to be careful as not to slip and get his trousers covered in mud. 

The waterfall isn’t a secret spot, but it’s so secluded and far away from the main route that no one is ever there. Seokmin likes to get there at sunset, because the light of the setting sun reflects on the surface of water and colors everything in pastel tones. It’s almost magical, Seokmin swears, even if there isn’t actual magic involved. 

Most of all it’s magical because of the company.

When he finally manages to climb up to his destination, he finds Soonyoung already there, his naked feet dangling off the edge of the waterfall. The last rays of sunshine are sparkling on the crown of his head, a halo of pure beauty that he’s not even aware of. He must hear Seokmin approaching, because he turns in his direction, a wide smile stretching his lips. 

His eyes are shining with barely contained excitement, and Seokmin sits down next to him, a safer distance from the border than where Soonyoung is perched. 

“You’re here!” The whole forest seems to glitter, raindrops stuck to the foliage catching the dying light. “I was waiting for you.”

“Were you?” Seokmin cocks his head to the side. Soonyoung seems different, his dark hair longer than he remembers it being, his cheeks less full. By the looks of it he seems tired, bags under his eyes that Seokmin is quite sure weren’t there the day before. “What for?”

“I want to jump.”

“You want to do what?!”

Soonyoung wiggles his feet in the air, his twinkling laugh bouncing off the branches and making a storm of birds take flight in a cacophony of fluttering wings. 

“I want to jump!” He screams to the forest, his voice echoing and disappearing into the heart of it, somewhere where secrets are buried - somewhere where magic can actually seem real, where everything is possible. 

“You’re not jumping into the lake, Soonyoung,” Seokmin tells him, trying to sound stern. Soonyoung is the older of the two of them, but he’s the one who’s always getting caught up into trouble. There’s a tiny pout on Soonyoung’s mouth, his lips coral pink where his tongue comes out to wet them. “I am,” he replies, standing up, putting one foot in front of him, like he was ready to walk right off the cliff. Seokmin springs to his feet and reaches out to stop him, his fingers clinging to the back of his shirt. “You’re not!”

“Let me go,” Soonyoung whines, trying to shake Seokmin’s hold off, but to no avail. Seokmin has grown, has become taller than him, stronger. There’s no way that Soonyoung is going to be able to escape his grasp. “C’mon Seok, it’s just a little bit of fun!”

“That’s not fun,” Seokmin triest to reason with him, “That’s suicide.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating. It’s not that high.”

Seokmin doesn’t risk a glance over the edge, afraid that if he gets distracted Soonyoung is just going to shake him off and dive without a care. 

“It’s high enough that if you fall in the wrong spot you’ll break all your bones.”

A disbelieving scoff comes out of Soonyoung’s mouth. He finally stops hovering over the waterfall and turns to face Seokmin. 

“Do you take me for a weakling?”

“Soon, stop being stubborn,” Seokmin sighs, his hand moving to clutch the front of Soonyoung’s shirt instead of the back. There’s no way he’s letting him jump. “I know you’re very brave, but there’s literally no need to test your luck this way.”

Soonyoung turns his head around, his gaze lost over the edge of the cliff. His profile is hidden in shadows, but Seokmin can imagine the pensive expression on his face, the concentrated little frown of consideration. 

“Should I try my luck another way?”

“What?”

Soonyoung’s eyes are the same color of the setting sun, gold and orange and any shade in between. A step away from the edge, a step closer to Seokmin. 

“Fortune favors the bold,” Soonyoung tells him as Seokmin should know what he is blabbering about. Three steps forward and he’s in Seokmin’s space, his gaze pinning him on the spot. There’s a magnetic force making it impossible for Seokmin to look away, so he doesn’t. He takes in the beauty marks on Soonyoung’s face, the way his eyelashes cast shadows over his cheeks when he blinks. The way his bottom lip looks red where he’s biting onto it, leaving marks when he releases it. His tongue comes out to run over them, slow. Seokmin thinks he’s losing his mind. 

“I don’t think luck is real,” Soonyoung’s mouth curves around the words, but they barely register in Seokmin’s brain. They’re standing too close together, their feet touching. “It’s just a matter of coincidences and of choosing the right moment.”

“When is the right moment?” Seokmin asks him, unable to resist. A smirk curls the corners of Soonyoung’s lips.

“When do you think it is?”

“Now?”

Soonyoung’s hands are on Seokmin's face now, and the older one brings him closer still, their breath mingling. All Seokmin can think of is orange flowers and pink lips. 

“Now.”

His eyes fall shut on their own, wind howling inside his ears, heart hammering inside his ribcage. The warmth of Soonyoung’s skin against his own makes him release a sigh out of his nose. 

The moment stretches to infinite, the sun still setting, dusk waiting to fall over them as not to disrupt the moment. Soonyoung’s hands are soft, his thumbs stroking Seokmin’s cheekbones with a delicate touch. There’s a promise in the air between them, and Seokmin is waiting for Soonyoung to swear on it - to jump off the cliff while holding his hand. It’s electrifying. 

“Then seize it.”

When Seokmin opens his eyes he’s alone on the edge of the cliff. Night has fallen, an owl hooting somewhere in the distance. Darkness covers everything, the tree branches looking like elongated fingers trying to pry the moon out of the sky. A glance over the verge of the waterfall tells him that there’s an identical crescent of moon in the water below. The night air going through his lungs is cold, freezing his insides as it goes in, scorching his throat as it goes out. 

He takes a step back, then another, his eyes fixed on the trees below. One more step. He’s ready. He knows what he has to do. 

Three fast steps and he’s jumping, falling over the edge. A scream as he goes down, limbs flailing. The impact with water is sudden, cold and unexpected. The lake opens for him, lets him go down. He makes sure to catch the moon between his fingers in his descent to the darkness. 

~

Warmth surrounds his senses when he comes to, resurfacing from sleep. His senses adjust, hearing coming first, Soonyoung’s soft snores being the first thing he registers. There’s a smile blooming on his face, impossible to stop. 

It’s still dark outside, the moonless night enveloping them like a soft embrace, like the embrace Soonyoung is holding him in, his arm around Seokmin’s middle. As softly as he can, Seokmin jostles him awake. 

A silent moment passes while Soonyoung shakes sleep away from him, his fists scrubbing his eyes as he tries to leave the world of dreams behind. Seokmin is enthralled by his beauty, by the curve of his mouth. He scoots closer. 

“What is it?” Soonyoung asks in a sleepy whisper, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. A lock of his hair falls in his eyes and Seokmin carefully brushes it away, trailing his fingers along his forehead, his nose, his cheek. Soonyoung is silent, his gaze never leaving Seokmin as he carefully traces routes over his skin. “Did you wake me up just to stare at me in silence?”

“I think I found the right way to break your curse.”

A sharp intake of breath, eyes growing more alert, Soonyoung stares at him with hope written all over his face. 

“How?”

“I think that since you unintentionally hurt me, your curse stuck to me. It’s been giving me dreams,” Seokmin’s thumb traces the edge of Soonyoung’s jaw, “Nightmares actually. I think they’ve been trying to tell me something.”

“What are they trying to tell you?”

“Do you believe in luck?” Seokmin asks back, smiling when Soonyoung’s eyebrows knit together, clearly in confusion. 

“I believe in coincidences,” Soonyoung repeats, but it’s not a dream anymore. He’s right there, lying in bed next to Seokmin, his body warm between Seokmin’s arms. “And in choosing the right moment.”

“When do you think it is?”

“Seok, I think I’m lost.”

“What’s more powerful than magic, be it dark or white or any kind?” 

There’s silence around them as Soonyoung ponders, his lips puckered in thought. 

“I have no clue.”

“Love bonds.”

Soonyoung scoffs. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“It was a love bond that cursed you, the one between a mother and her child. It’s a love bond that will set you free.”

Despite how absurd it sounds, Seokmin  _ knows _ he’s right. In the dream, he managed to steal the moon. In reality he can do just the same. 

“When do you think the right moment is, Soonyoung?”

Inside Soonyoung’s eyes there is a whirlwind of emotions, hues of different colors appearing one after the other. When he speaks, it’s with certainty in his tone, with love swirling in the depth of his gaze. Seokmin catches it, stores it away. 

“Now.”

It’s too easy to fall in the constant pull that is always trying to lure Seokmin in, too easy to bend his head down to get closer to Soonyoung. There are hands on the sides of his neck, Soonyoung surging up to close the distance between them. Falling over the edge is effortless, gravity working in his favor. 

When their lips meet it feels like an electric shock, like reliving all of his dreams at once, shapes and colors and sensations overlapping, overwhelming his senses all at once. His eyes are closed, but he sees golds and greens and blues, he sees waterfalls and flowers and butterflies. He feels sparks just below his sternum, his heart beating so fast it’s probably going to burst in a cloud of confetti. 

It feels like an eternity, a moment that loops forever. And then it’s over.

Eyes wide, Soonyoung is staring at him with his lips parted, his hands gripping the collar of his shirt. 

“It worked,” he mutters, sounding disbelieving, “It really worked. It’s gone. I can’t feel it anymore.”

His whole face lights up with the force of his smile, unrestrained and mesmerizing. Seokmin wants to engrave it in his mind, to never let it go. Instead of saying anything he bends his neck to press another kiss to Soonyoung’s mouth, stealing a delighted giggle from the source. 

“I don’t think this need to be said anymore,” Seokmin whispers against Soonyoung’s jaw, leaving a love bite there before moving down, along the column of his neck, “but I love you.”

Another giggle shakes Soonyoung’s body, his hands tugging at Seokmin’s locks to guide his head up so he can mold their mouths together and pour his feelings into a desperate kiss. It tastes vaguely of peppermint, of promises and of coincidences. They’re smiling too much, their teeth clacking together, but neither of them seem to care. 

“I love you too,” Soonyoung confesses after he’s climbed over Seokmin’s lap, his elbows on either side of his face, their noses touching. He says the words so they get swallowed up by Seokmin’s lips, says them so Seokmin can drink them and feel them on the tip of his tongue. They go down his throat, sickly sweet. He doesn’t mind. 

“I missed you.” It’s an addition Seokmin isn’t expecting, but he takes it in all the same, lets Soonyoung kiss his way along his jaw, up to his cheek, along the bridge of his nose. Then he’s back on square one, lips against lips, tongues finding each other in the darkness. There’s nowhere else that Seokmin would rather be. It’s warm in here, with Soonyoung on top of him - it’s warm and comfortable, and there’s no other place in the world that feels like Soonyoung’s embrace. It’s where home is, in a kiss against Soonyoung’s mouth. It’s where he wants to live for the rest of his life.

“I missed you too.”

When the moon appears in the black sky, it's just to lead them between each other’s arms. 

~  
  



End file.
